


Seasons Change

by rebirthcorbenik



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Businessman Hanzo Shimada, Farmer Jesse McCree, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 18:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14338410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebirthcorbenik/pseuds/rebirthcorbenik
Summary: Jesse McCree is in danger of losing his livelihood when a visit from an affluent, Japanese business man changes his fortune.





	Seasons Change

The vast stretch of farmland unfolds before Jesse McCree's honey colored eyes as he rises to begin his day, his shaggy, chestnut hair still somewhat messy from sleep. The grounds outside are lightly frosted in the late March sunlight. He immediately grabs his lighter, places a cigarette between his lips, and smokes as he goes about his morning routine. He turns on the water for his shower, and while he waits for it to warm up he slips on a coat and boots to fetch the morning paper. Jesse had this routine down to the last second, knowing exactly when his aging shower would be a tolerable temperature. His cigarette lasts long enough for him to walk to the mailbox and back. The burnt butt of the cigarette just manages to make it to the ceramic ashtray sitting outside of the front door on the porch when he tosses it as he reaches the front door. Toeing his boots off inside the door, Jesse sheds the coat and skims the newspaper as he makes his way back upstairs to lay his clothes out for the day. By the time he finishes skimming the front page, he strips off his plain white t-shirt and washed-out navy pajama pants.

Once he steps into the shower the hot water glides over Jesse's tired body, tracing old scars and soothing sore muscles. Most of his old scars were from his early days in the Deadlock Gang where the older members would often torment the new recruits. Sometimes someone might put a cigarette out on skin, other times someone might get drunk and draw a knife. Jesse couldn’t remember anymore how or why he had gotten most of the marks that dappled his skin, and most of time he didn’t care to. The sore muscles came from more recent work on the farm. Not having much mechanical help made everything he had to do a little bit harder, especially since Jesse was approaching 40. His back always seemed to hurt and his joints were aching with the slightest onset of arthritis, but the hot showers everyday made his body feel better at least for a little while. They were some of the few moments of peace that Jesse was able to have where he could let his mind wonder. While he was actually working he had to concentrate on giving proper care to his animals, his dwindling orders from customers in town, the slow decline of his farm… No he doesn’t want to think about that now. When the shower starts to cool he turns the water off, hesitating to start his day in earnest. 

Jesse towels himself dry in the bathroom, hanging his towel back on the rack before he saunters back into the bedroom. The cold, early spring air penetrates the old farmhouse raising goosebumps on Jesse’s bare skin while he casually dresses. He has his usual clothes laid out on the bed: washed out American flag print boxers, ragged blue jeans, and a brown button-up shirt. All of Jesse’s clothes have some sort of wear and tear on them. His boxers gained more small holes from being well worn through each passing year. His jeans have permanent dirt stains and bleached spots where he tried to remove said stains. He mechanically dresses himself and finishes the ensemble with his BAMF belt. The belt was another holdover from his days in the Deadlock gang and for some reason he couldn’t convince himself to get rid of it. However, it always gave his customers a good chuckle when he delivered supplies to them. Their smiles made up for the less than savory memories that had come with the belt. He guessed that the sheer ridiculousness made it easier to keep. Jesse wears chaps as well when he works on the farm, but he usually waits until right before he leaves the house to put them on as they aren’t the most comfortable. When he finishes dressing, a calmness washes over him that allows him to focus on the farm work. Jesse has slowly been losing customers because he simply cannot meet their demands for produce and meat by himself. People nowadays usually liked to go to the supermarket instead of getting groceries from local farmers anyhow. He wasn’t sure at this point in his life what he would do if he lost the farm. He thought that he might just be able to live off what he produced rather than just selling it, but he had bills and debts to pay. Now, mentally ready to face the day he heads downstairs to make himself some breakfast to get him through the first half of the busy day.

Most of the fare on his table came from the farm from the sausages to the vegetables in his omelette. The few things that he bought from the store were things he didn’t want to take the time to grow or just couldn’t grow himself like citrus and grain. Jesse thought that the large variety of plants he grew might be part of the problem with his failing farm. He just couldn’t keep up with the constant demands of restaurateurs in the town a few miles away. His breakfast was about the same every day with some variation of eggs, a vegetable or two, sausages or bacon, and black coffee to wash it down. If he felt whimsical, Jesse would sometimes make biscuits with sausage gravy, but most days he just didn’t feel like it. While he’s in the kitchen, Jesse makes a mental note of his lunch plans and sets out some chicken breasts to thaw for a fajita type dish.

He's enjoying his last sip of coffee as he gathers up his dirty dishes and places them in the kitchen sink. Jesse was going to rely on the caffeine for the next few months because his small herd of cows were on a couple months away from calving and crops needed to be planted. He grabs the rest of his ensemble from behind the front door. He quickly straps on his chaps and grabs the worn cowboy hat next to them. Lastly, he pulls on the boots sitting next to the door and lights another cigarette. Ready for the day ahead, Jesse sighs, exiting the humble two story farmhouse, which was in desperate need of repairs, draped in his fading red serape. 

The farmhouse had been bought after he had left the Deadlock Gang almost twenty years ago. Then, it had been fairly new, but the years had not been kind to it. It also didn't help that Jesse didn't have a whole lot of money lying around since he had left a very lucrative occupation and settled for a safer, less illegal way of life after a close encounter of the Fed kind. In the beginning the house had almost been too much for a young man who had had almost nothing during the course of his life. The house had been sparsely furnished and decorated with only the essentials: on old couch he grabbed that was headed for the landfill, a kitchen table and chairs he bought at a discount store, and a few lamps he found stashed away in the attic. The only thing Jesse allowed himself to splurge on was the bed. He had slept in hard cots or two-size-too-small beds all his life. Jesse used a large amount of his saved money to buy a king-sized bed that was as soft as down feathers, and he still thought that bed was the best damn purchase he'd ever made. Like anyone who lives in a place for a long period of time, he had steadily accumulated odds and ends to fill his house. In its current state, he had more furniture for a single man who hardly had company would ever need and a ton of junk he had been given or just found at some point.

His farm is relatively small compared to those in the surrounding area, just a few acres for his crops and livestock. He still does almost everything manually from harvesting his vegetables to milking his small herd of cows. It's hard grueling work, but compared to the life he lived before, it's much more satisfying and rewarding. He has five cows in the dairy herd, five in the beef herd, and one bull he keeps on the farm. Jesse also keeps a small team of pigs, a flock of chickens, and a couple of horses on his homestead. His livestock numbers have dwindled down the past few years due to larger industrial farms taking over nearby. His vegetable farm is far more valuable in terms of profit. Jesse supplies most of the restaurants in nearby towns with vegetables from his farm from the Mexican places that use spicy chili peppers to the soul food joints that call for collard greens. His patch hosts a menagerie of plants: peppers, corn, tomatoes, beans, squash, lettuce, cabbages, carrots, potatoes, and so many more. This is where he has to devote most of his time because he doesn’t have any mechanical help, and he can only afford to hire people for a few weeks out of the year when it’s time for harvest. He plants and sows the seeds himself, weeds every bit of it throughout the week, and sets up the watering system after they all get planted. Jesse looks over the huge plot where in a few weeks he’ll have to bring out his old rototiller. Because it’s too early to plant his seeds and seedlings, he’s making out the garden plan to rotate the crops to different positions than the previous year. This ensures that he won’t pull too much nitrogen and other nutrients from his precious soil. He had been saving up for a small greenhouse to ensure a small profit during the winter months, but most of his bank account had been demolished when one of his cows had gotten sick. His savings balance was slowly climbing again after a few months of frugality. 

By the end of the day Jesse is aching and tired from working all day with only a short break for lunch around noon. He kicks off his boots on the front porch so he can clap them together to get some of the outside off. He sets them just inside the door so he doesn’t track mud, grass, and animal waste all over the house. He hangs his serape on the coat hooks behind the door along with his chaps and hat. Jesse strolls through the dining room with sock covered feet to head up the stairs to his bedroom. Once he reaches the bedroom door he starts pulling off his clothes leaving a dirty trail behind him as he again heads to the bathroom for a shower. 

This time under the water Jesse is too exhausted to even think about anything other than food and sleep while he slowly washes the day’s grime off his body. He stays in the shower just long enough to get clean; he knows if he stays any longer he’ll fall asleep under the warm water. The heat and steam almost tempt him with the promise of sweet rest, but the growling in his stomach has another plan. After he dries himself off, he gathers up the clothes littering his floor and stuffs them in a hamper in the corner. He only slides on his pajama pants after cleaning up his room and starts downstairs to cook dinner. Thankfully, Jesse had thought to prepare easily microwavable dishes for dinner at the beginning of the week. That way he didn’t have to cook for a few days. Tonight he decided on a Tex-Mex, black bean concoction with steak as the protein. Jesse plops himself down in his recliner in front of the TV and turns the channel to some classic western rerun. His eyes He manages to put his dishes in the sink before he completely falls asleep with them in his lap. Jesse extinguishes all the lights in the house as he sleepily ascends the stairs to the bed calling his name like a sweet siren. He remembers to brush his teeth and pull on a t-shirt right before he finally lays down for the night. He knows he’ll have the same dark nightmares about losing his precious home, but he can’t resist sleep summoning him to the realm of dreams.


End file.
